Writing

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Confessions...


(We see a very tidy-looking living room.  There is a white couch, a framed family portrait on the wall, a big red armchair next to the couch that is forming sort of an "L" shape with the couch, and a large wooden cross hanging up on the wall.  A boy, MATTHEW, wearing a button-down and a semi-spiky haircut, is sitting on the armchair.  His parents are on the couch.  His dad is wearing a business suit and his mom is wearing a pink sweater set, white capris and a short blonde bob with bangs.  MATTHEW keeps nervously messing with a ring on his right hand throughout the scene.  The three of them are watching a cheesy sitcom on TV)

Girl on TV: Oh my God, Becky, Timmy just totally asked me to the prom! –laugh track-

Dad: Hey, Matthew, don't you have a prom coming up soon?

Matthew:   Ummm… -looks down and plays with ring, mumbles- yeah, I guess…

Mom:  Really? Are you planning on going with anyone?  How about that cute little Cynthia from across the street?  I'm sure she'd love to go with you…

-everyone freezes except Matthew.  The lights go down, a spotlight on Matthew-

Matthew:  This would be the perfect moment to tell them… -sigh- I wonder how they'll react when I do…

-Everyone un-freezes.  The TV is still on in the background-

Matthew:  Actually, guys, I was planning on going with someone.  But, um, it's not Cynthia…

Mom (casually, still watching TV):  Really?  Who is it, then?

Matthew:  Well, me and Aaron decided to go together…

Dad (also paying more attention to the TV than the conversation):  Oh, so he didn't have a date either?

Matthew:  Um, not exactly.  Umm…  Could you guys turn the TV off for a minute?  I have to tell you something…

-Dad turns off TV.  Both look at him expectantly-

Matthew:  Well, uh, mom, remember last week how you commented on how I haven't dated any girls since I was a freshmen?

Mom (misunderstanding):  Oh, honey, you know I didn't mean anything bad, it's just that you're such a nice boy, and so handsome, and…

Matthew (cutting her off): No, mom, that's not what I… -sighs, buries face in hands for a few seconds, then looks back up and tries again)  Um, well, you see, when me and Aaron were 14, he told me that he thought he could possibly be, well… um… gay.  And—

Mom (cutting him off with a loud gasp): Do his parents know?!?

Dad:  Wow, I'm amazed that you were still comfortable around him after that… -reaches over to put his hand on Matthew's shoulder.  Matthew looks away- You truly are a good friend, son.

Matthew (still looking away, shrugs his dad's hand off and crosses his arms):  Just… nevermind.  Forget it.

-A pause.  Comprehension slowly dawns on them.  Mom suddenly gasps.  Dad leaps up from the couch so he is standing over his son.-

Dad:  NO!  NO!  NO!  YOUR MOTHER AND I DID NOT RAISE YOU TO BE LIKE THAT!!!!

-Mom begins sobbing-

Dad:  NO SON OF MINE WILL TAKE ANOTHER BOY AS A DATE TO HIS PROM!!!!!!!!!

Matthew (gulping.  Holding back tears):  I… I…

-Dad suddenly walks across the room, facing the wall.  He runs his hand through his hair.  Matthew gets up to sit next to his mom on the couch and tries to comfort her, but she turns away from him-

Mom (quietly, almost to herself):  My son… My only son… Is a sinner.  –sobs-

Matthew:  Mom, don't say that.  If being gay was a sin, why would God make me this way?

-Mom just sobs harder-

-long pause-

Dad:  Matthew… I can't let you see Aaron anymore.

Matthew:  Dad, no!  That's not fair!

Dad (turn to face him and shouts):  LIFE ISN'T FAIR!!!!!!!!!

-Pause.  Mom still sobbing.-
Dad:  I can't be here right now.

-leaves-

Matthew: …Mom…?

Mom (quietly):  I can't… look at you… right now…

-leaves the room-

-Matthew buries his face in his hands.  Lights go down for a second, then come back up-

Dad: Hey, Matthew, don't you have a prom coming up soon?

Matthew:   Ummm… -looks down and plays with ring, mumbles- yeah, I guess…

Mom:  Really? Are you planning on going with anyone?  How about that cute little Cynthia from across the street?  I'm sure she'd love to go with you…

-long pause-

Matthew:  …No… I think I'm just going to do something else that night.

-Matthew gets up and leaves the room.  His parents keep watching TV, totally clueless.-

-lights fade out-



--Ezra Zee, June 11, 2011
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Dear Louise,

I've known you since the first day we met in second grade.  I've been in love with you for a shorter amount of time, but almost as long.  I've never said anything to you.  I was afraid of what people would think about me.  No, that's a lie.  They can think what they want.  I was afraid of what everyone would be brave enough to say to my face or write on my Facebook wall (if you can consider that bravery).  I didn't want to drag you into that.  You don't deserve it.

Any love letter that I've ever read has something to say about what they like about the person they're for.  It's the cheesiest thing, but it's my favorite part.

Your hair always smells of strawberries and it reminds me of when our moms used to take us to the strawberry fields in town (they were community gardens, really.  An old lady used to come by a couple times of week to tend her strawberries.  When her hands and knees became so arthritic it pained her to do anything she loved, we continued her legacy and sent her pictures).  We would go down there and we would pick handfuls of strawberries, keeping half for everyone else to eat, and eating the other half ourselves.

Your eyes tell me that there's more to you than I can possibly know.  I love a good mystery-worth-solving.

Your smile makes every trouble melt away-- global warming, war, poverty, hunger, death...

Louise, I said that I was in love with you shortly after I met you.  It was that day we went to Lucille Reinhardt's dress-up birthday party.  You picked out this blue Cinderella dress that I loved on you.  I still remember that dress and the way you looked.  I think that was the day that I realized who I was... even though I didn't have a word for it yet.

In a few days, we'll graduate from high school.  I know that we'll be on opposite coasts, but maybe, if you want, we can try and make something work.  If you don't, I'll completely understand and I'll never ask you about it again.

I hope that you'll at least still want to be my friend, because I love you in that sense above all and I don't want anything to ruin that.

Let me know, you know how to contact me.

Sincerely (or Love, if you'll have me),
Amanda

--Jude, 12/23/10
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It was the way he smelled that did it.

I guess it had been building up for a long time, but I just sort of lost control when I noticed the way he smelled.  It's a smell that's impossible to describe-- a combination of laundry detergent, old spice, and something else with no name to it.

Or maybe it was his eyes.  He just had this way of looking at me.  His eyes on mine filled me with the kind of feeling that is only described in some of the sappier love stories out there.  Like stepping into the sunlight on the first warm day of spring.

God, I sound like a teenage girl or something...

It doesn't really matter what made me do it at this point.  All that matter is that I did it, and now there's no way to  take it back.

I had always suspected that I was... well... not exactly straight.  I thought of girls as just friends and nothing more.  Still, I had never met a guy or a girl that I would ever consider dating.

Then, last year, I met Victor.

There was just something about the way he talked to me, the way he wasn't afraid to hug me, and how he never labeled himself.  He said, "I might be bi.  I'm not sure yet, but you never know-- I could meet a guy that I like enough to date one day."

We were pretty tight.  We hung out all the time, and every once in a while... well... it seemed like he felt the same way about me.  And today we were at his house, and he was looking at me... and I kissed him.  Then he kissed me back for a few seconds... but then he pulled away.

And just looked down at his feet..

I just left.

Well, at least now he knows.
--Maria Svetlana Carion, 12/22/10